


You Look Good In My Shirt

by merae2888



Series: Better Together [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Smut, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merae2888/pseuds/merae2888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke wears Bellamy's shirt. He doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Look Good In My Shirt

It's the little things that undo him. 

He had his tongue in her cunt this morning. She’d choked on his name when he sucked at her clit and slipped three fingers into her tight heat. She’d told him she loved him while whimpering through her release, gripping his hair until it hurt.

But all of that, while fucking amazing, didn't stop him in his tracks. This though...he's stalled at the door of their cabin, mesmerized by the vision of Clarke asleep, peaceful and utterly gorgeous, her hair swept up and across the pillow, wearing just her panties and his shirt. It's the blue one that matches her eyes, and it's so tattered and the fabric is worn down so that he can make out perfectly the shape of her breasts as she’s snoring lightly, still stuffed up from her summer cold and she’s spread out on their bed, taking up every inch she possibly can and it’s just the best thing he's ever seen. 

It’s love and it’s home and it’s life and it’s everything he never expected to have. 

"What are you doing, weirdo?"

Her eyes aren't even open. He smiles, gets that head rush thing that always happens when Clarke does something to show how connected they are. "Just enjoying the view." 

"Oh, yeah?" she asks, arching off the bed like a kitten and tugging the shirt up playfully. 

Bellamy hums his approval as she skims her hands down her stomach. “You look good in my shirt.”

At the low pitch in his voice, Clarke finally opens her eyes halfway, gives him an easy, dopey smile. “I bet I look better out of it.”

Bellamy laughs, hopes it covers up the soft sniffle that he can’t hold in any longer. He walks to the bed and kneels next to her, sweeps his hand down the front of her body, let’s his fingers linger when he finds her heartbeat. She closes her eyes again, sighs with pleasure as he drags his fingertips over her collarbone and throat and Bellamy watches intently, tries to memorize the sensation of her warm, soft skin. It’s his privilege to know Clarke in this way and he never wants to take it for granted. 

“Get in here,” she whispers, sweet and sleepy. Bellamy strips down to his briefs and crawls behind her, curls himself around her body. He nuzzles the back of her neck, kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear until she squirms, then he goes lower, nosing the collar of his shirt aside so he can nibble at her shoulder. “I’ll have to wear this more often.”

“It’s yours.”


End file.
